[Here’s part 2 of Becoming Sovereign. You can read part 1 here if you missed it! There will also be a part 3! Why? Because I like the freedom of splitting this essay into several parts! Who knows? Part 4? Part 79? Welcome to this endless spiral of my brain.]
In our culture, the experience of emotional pain is either vilified, silenced, or othered. Because of this, we often try to destroy it. This totally natural internal experience is commonly perceived as dangerous—we are subtly told that it’s an uncontrollable Lovecraftian thing that will totally consume us unless we do everything we can to completely avoid it. Or, we desperately cover it over with pleasure—as if we could drown it out of existence. But that approach has never actually worked, and you probably already know that. Just look around you—the world we are living in now is the result of a pathological avoidance of pain.
For example, the average American is given three days [if they’re lucky] to take a leave from work to grieve the passing of a loved one. Our culture has decided for us how much space we are allotted to acknowledge our pain and grief. And what’s implied if we need more than that? “you’re deficient, you’re too much—suck it up.” As a result, our culture has turned pain into an emotion that no one has time for, and thus, the culture itself becomes structured around attempts to smother pain with instantly gratifying pleasure [I’m sure you can imagine what I am referring to]—and all of it ends up being at the expense of everyone, including our precious Earth. We’ve ended up creating a story that the absence of pain is pleasure—but there is no such thing as the total absence of pain, so the pursuit itself is not only fruitless, but endless. There is another way.
Here’s one tenet to write down and accept before you continue your journey as a spiritual practitioner in the world: Your emotional pain will never entirely go away. Why? Because there will always be something else that arises in your life that leads to it. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but we live in the realm of life and death—there is always another loss around the corner, it’s inevitable. This reality is set up like this on purpose—and if tomorrow, there was suddenly no more loss… there’d be no more decay. And if there was no more decay, there’d be no more life [welcome to biology class, fam]. Soon enough, we’d all be swimming in an anaerobic slop in which all evolution and growth permanently skids to a halt. So, if loss is essential for life, and loss is what inevitably results in pain—in order to not live in resistance to life itself, we have to learn how to receive the pain that naturally comes along with loss in a sustainable, restorative, and purposeful way.
This is obviously a huge subject. So, today I’m going to scratch the surface by discussing three approaches to begin to adjust your relationship with your emotional pain: through acknowledgment, emotional literacy, and honest reflection.
Let’s begin with acknowledgment. First of all: please do not blame yourself for wanting solace from pain. Like I said earlier, your desire to avoid this feeling is inherently wise, given our cultural circumstance in which most of us are never taught how to deal with it. There’s nothing wrong with you for wanting to avoid it—but, there is another way. And: as you begin to test the waters of a new approach, you can begin by sending yourself in this moment and yourself in the past so much compassion and love. Take a moment to reflect on how you’ve historically dealt with pain—and if it feels safe to do so, conjure a specific instance in which you coped with it through avoidance and say to your past-self:
“I acknowledge your pain.”
Do not take this phrase lightly. These words are a magical incantation. I’ve borrowed them from Matt Kahn, who is a spiritual teacher whose lectures/talks I consider to be satsang, because he is in the state of being that he describes/talks about. If you’re new to my space, welcome: I am obsessed with satsang. Why? Because the recognition of satsang is an absolute game-changer in the spiritual process because when we read satsang, we actually access the state of the person who spoke the words, and can thus pattern on to what they experienced. This is transpersonal scripture—and I’m not into telling people what to do, but if I had to tell someone to do some… I’d tell them to get interested in satsang. [are you taking the hint?]
So basically: the words “I acknowledge your pain” are satsang, and when you repeat them, you access the state of being that Matt is in. And thus: His ability to masterfully transmute emotional pain has invoked the possibility for you to do it as well. If you truly believe that, something will happen. Spirituality is something you participate in. The way you look at something has a direct effect on what you are able to access—whether it’s an adverse situation, a picture of Saint, or the word of satsang. But that’s enough about that—let’s get down to this acknowledgement.
When you are experiencing pain [however that manifests for you] hold your hands over your heart and your solar plexus and say to yourself: “I acknowledge my pain.” And—just… go with it. Tap into the feeling; say hello to it. You can say whatever arises to really make sure you’re recognizing what is happening. For me, it’s sometimes just: “this really hurts.” If we want to work with the full spectrum of human experience—and especially THIS aspect of the spectrum which will literally never go away—we need to find a new way to greet it. It won’t hurt any less, but it can begin to have less power over us when it’s an aspect of our being that we develop a relationship with, rather than an aspect of our being that we shun and attempt to destroy.
Let’s dive deeper into the recognition of pain: The devīsūktam is a passage taken from the ṛgveda that has historically been sung as a devotional hymn to the Divine Mother in India/SE Asia. In it are 21 stanzas in which the Divine Mother is recognized in various forms:
“salutations again and again to You, O Goddess, abiding in all beings in the form of [intelligence, peace, forgiveness, genius, etc]”
Studying this hymn creates space for us to begin to Divinize our internal experiences—because if God permeates everything, God also exists in the form of your intellect, your emotions, your thoughts, and your feelings. Often, in my own experience, I’ll go deeper into my recognition of pain by saying: “The Goddess is appearing in the form of my pain right now.” —and thus, I am able to work through the pain in a way that doesn’t bypass it [because I am acknowledging and welcoming it], while also remaining in Remembrance of What it Is that is appearing in the guise of my pain—at the same time! Two birds with one stone! Damn, this is integral spirituality, huh?
Diving EVEN deeper into my tradition, there’s also the śrīdevī aṣtottaram [the 108 names of the Divine Mother.] Why does the Divine Mother have 108 names? Well, remember: God permeates everything, and thus dwells within and appears as everything. So truly, the Goddess has infinite names, but traditionally there are 108 names attributed to her which are ritually chanted. [& there’s actually another text with 1008 names, too.] Similarly, there are the 99 names of Allah in Islam. In both Sufism and exoteric Islam, particular names of Allah are often used as incantations to access certain types of experiences or outcomes—whether it’s in the form of healing, or higher states of awareness. The 108 names of the Divine Mother are used similarly. Let’s bring our attention to the 90th name:
OṀ DUḤKHA HARĀYAI NAMAḤ
[Salutations to She who takes away pain.]
SO: She appears in the form of pain, and it is She who eventually takes away pain. But does she take it away—or transform it?
Pain is a messenger. This is pretty obvious: When we injure ourselves, our pain is a signal to let us know that there is something wrong. If we didn’t experience physical pain, we’d be in big trouble. Emotional pain is a messenger as well, but the message is slightly different. It’s not that there’s something wrong, but rather—there’s something that is requiring our attention. And not just any old attention, but our loving attention. Hiding behind your pain is your heart—patiently waiting for you to soak it in the nectar of your loving attention. Your heart is awaiting your support. Your heart is awaiting your approval. Your heart is awaiting your recognition. So, if the Goddess is She who transforms pain, She transforms the message of our pain from something that we need to run from into something that we need to turn towards with love and compassion. We transform pain when we turn towards it with the gentle attentiveness of a loving parent towards their own child.
Your emotional pain is ultimately an opportunity to expand your capacity for unconditional love—towards yourself. What happens if you love yourself—who is the Goddess—in the experience of pain—which is also the Goddess? You enter into the arena of welcoming the full-spectrum of human experience. The more you love the full-spectrum, the less dependent on circumstance you will become. And slowly, through all of the ups and downs [and oh boy are there ups and downs!] you begin to scratch the surface of what it means to become sovereign.
[next post will be about the second tier of welcoming the full spectrum: emotional literacy. I actually love this tier—I think you’ll like it too. stay tüned 😇]
Enjoy my work? You can send me a tip. 😘
venmo: @hanna-williams
paypal: paypal.me/immanentdivinity